Monday, May 13, 2013

Fun With Avalanches

On Monday, the
mid-point of our trek, we were supposed to reach Annapurna Base Camp
(ABC)(13,500 feet) which would have put
us right at the base of the Annapurnas. We never got there.

While hiking on Saturday it got a bit rainy and foggy as we
got higher. We stayed that night, as planned, at Deurali (10,500 ft.)

When my roommate and I woke up at about three in the morning, which wasn’t unusual, and she when came back into our little room from her
trip to the loo, I asked “Is it still raining?” Answer: “No. But it’s snowing”.Yikes. We weren’t expecting that. So much for
going back to sleep. We huddled in our sleeping bags hoping for the best. However,
as we emerged into the weak morning
light, there were about three inches of snow on the ground and it was slowly
still coming down. It must have been about 30 degrees, so it was that big,
wet-flaked stuff. Unseasonable snow fall.

It was still coming down after
breakfast.Half rain. Half snow. As we
took off for Machapuchare Base Camp (MBC), our next destination, none of us
said anything even though we were all wondering what we were in for.At that point I knew that reaching ABC the
next day was in question because, if nothing else, if this kept up, we wouldn’t
see anything. But in big mountains, you never know what is going to happen. Weather
can change very quickly. So, we just … went. Following our experienced and
enthusiastic guides. Up another 1600+ feet. More stone steps and muddy, rooty,
rocky trail.

Hours later, when the buildings at MBC (12,140 feet)
appeared from the behind the curtain of falling snow and clouds, there was more
snow on the ground.

Arriving at MBC

When we woke up the next day - “summit “day - there was more
snow. And it was still coming down. And was predicted to continue for three
days.

What we woke up to at MBC

We ate breakfast wondering what the plan was going to be.
Stay here an extra day, people had been stuck at MBC before? Go down in poor
visibility and conditions? The thing is, the trek crosses one small and one
large avalanche chute. Spring, when things freeze at night and then thaw in the
day time, is prime avalanche time. That
morning we could hear small avalanches happening at a distance, higher up. Like
every 15 minutes. A rumbley rocky thundery sound. Yet I’m thinking: We’re fine. We
have food, shelter, warmth (well, Himalayan-style warmth), competent guides, as
well as contact with the outside world – there was Wi-Fi (what a world). Plus
DK (our lead guide) carried a satellite phone. We were never out of contact
with Active Adventures HQ.

Eventually DK tells us that we we're not going to ABC - “too
risky”. We’re going down – and that if it looks too dangerous when we
get to the avalanche area, we’d come back to MBC. So we start out. The porters
hiked with us, instead of bounding ahead as they usually did, for their safety
and ours, and we all stuck together more closely. I felt calm and
in-the-moment. I’d been in avalanche conditions before when I did some
mountaineering in the early 90’s and I know that knowledgeable people
can look at conditions and take a decent read on the risks. Gokul, our Nepalese
guide, had been through that corridor dozens of times, including in snow
conditions. I trusted his judgment.I
knew that he and DK wouldn’t be taking unnecessary risks. So it was fun, despite the fact that it was
very slip-slidey-slushy and everyone took at least one plop in the snow and me
once in the mud.

As we’re hiking we can see small, brief avalanches happening
at a distance, high up and on the other side of the ravine. Think of long,
narrow waterfalls you have seen - it was like that - only it was snow. It
didn’t feel threatening. Just surreal. Other-worldly. Indeed the guides and the
porters all said they had never experienced avalanches happening so often. I
have no pictures to show you. We were all focused on
the conditions and maintaining our footing.

To add to the drama, as we’re about 15 minutes or so away
from the main avalanche chute, other, faster hikers coming up from behind us
(they must have left MBC a bit after we did) tell DK that there is a woman by
herself struggling on the trail a ways back. I guess he looked like someone who
could help because, of course, he was. The code of the mountains and guides
being what it is, he goes back to check. The rest of us keep going. We get to
the avalanche chute. Gokul and the porters are talking back and forth – in Nepalese,
so we don’t understand a word. We get the signal that it’s a go.
Standard procedure is to walk as briskly, but safely, as possible and not stop.
That’s what we did. One does not dally in an avalanche chute.

All safely across, we go a bit more till we’re out of the
avalanche area. Still no DK.

As we’re taking a break, DK emerges out of the fog, holding
the hand of a Japanese woman who seemed dazed. She had become separated from her
hiking companion, a major no-no, even under good conditions. And she was
totally ill-equipped to be out there – her shoes were so slippery she had
been sliding along the trail on her butt. DK had her put her socks on the
outside of her shoes for some traction. See, experienced guides know these things.
He said she could have so easily slipped over the edge. He pulled out some chocolate
from his pack just as we all needed a boost and she hiked on with us.

As we were moving on, the most spectacular avalanche across
the ravine stopped us all. We were spell-bound watching it.It was coming over the top of a small high saddle
and looked like a liquid snow fall. There are high lakes on the other side, so
it could have been a combo of water, ice, and snow breaking through. I’ve never
seen anything like it. We all just stood there mesmerized. It went on for so
long we just had to move on.

As we moved lower and reached the tea house for our morning
break, I wondered whether the rescued hiker realized that she could have died
that day. By contrast, we had experienced something truly unique and
exhilarating.We were fully alive and
engaged for a fleeting magical morning.

2 comments:

"One does not dally in an avalanche chute." There's a great life lesson! In the northern Rockies, the avalanche chutes are where the grizzlies hang out during the summer. Another reason not to dally in an avalanche chute.

About Me

I retired in August 2012 after four decades of jobs and self-employment ranging from social service to waitressing to lawyering to collaboration/mediation. I wanted to participate in the modern age - having experiences (no matter how banal) and writing about them.
This is not your grandmother’s blog. I’m single, active, no kids. It’s not about moving to Florida or hanging at the club between rounds of golf or about what to do now that hubby is home all day. This blog isn’t practical advice, tips or resources for retirement. There’s plenty of that out there already.
This is a chronicle of what this transformation - this transition/adventure - has been and continues to be for me. Delivered in small doses. God knows (that would be small "g" if it wasn't the beginning of a sentence) I had the attention span of about two paragraphs when I was working full-tilt. I'm going to try and remember what it was like being in the work-world...as I cross over...become feral...live the answers I usually provided when anyone asked me "What are you going to do?": "Recover my authentic self" or "Whatever I want". The Frontage Road to Zen is now open. And there are no posted limits.